up with a sledge hammer, for no axe will stand the impact. Near it
may be seen huge bunches of grass (or perhaps straw would describe it
better), which the white man gathers for hay with a huge hoe. Then
there is the ever-present, friendly sage-brush, miniature oak trees,
with branch and trunk, so beautiful. It grows, as a rule, about two
feet high, but I have seen it higher than my head; that is, at least
six feet. Beneath its spreading shade in the south lurks the Gila
Monster, terrible in name at any rate, a fearful object to look upon,
a remnant of antediluvian times, a huge, clumsy, two-foot lizard. The
horned toad is quite as forbidding in appearance, but he is a
harmless little thing. Here we are in the rattlesnake's paradise.
Nine species are found along the Mexican border; and no wonder. The
country seems made for them,--the rocks, cliffs, canyons, pitahayas,
Joshuas, and all the rest of it. Notwithstanding their venom they
have beauty, and when one is seen at the bottom of some lonely,
unfrequented canyon, tail buzzing, head erect, and defiant,
glistening eyes, a man feels like apologising for the intrusion.
Above in the limpid sunlight floats the great eagle, deadly enemy of
the rattlesnake; from a near-by bush the exquisite song of the
mocking-bird trills out, and far up the rocks the hoof-strokes of the
mountain sheep strike with a rattle of stones that seems music in the
crystal air. Yonder the wild turkey calls from the pine trees, or we
hark to the whir of the grouse or the pine-hen. Noisy magpies startle
the silence of the northern districts, and the sage-hen and the
rabbit everywhere break the solitude of your walk. Turn up a stone
and sometimes you see a revengeful scorpion: anon the huge tarantula
comes forth to look at the camp-fire. As one sits resting on a barren
ledge, the little swifts come out to make his acquaintance. Whistle
softly and a bright-coated fellow will run up even upon your shoulder
to show his appreciation of the Swan Song. Antelope dart scornfully